


Hand in Hand

by eldritchblaest



Series: We're (Not) Alright [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Autistic Character, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, autistic matt murdock, they're both fuck ups but theyre in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchblaest/pseuds/eldritchblaest
Summary: I'm no good.





	1. Jones v Group Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Twice in one day, I'm on fire.
> 
> So yeah, I'm in Darejones/Mess hell, so I'm gonna be posting a metric fuck ton of these as the week goes on. Hopefully.
> 
> The second chapter's gonna center around Matt's autism. 
> 
> Title is from I Was an Island by A.W.

She pulls the car to a stop- the building is small and homely, with faded brick walls and shutters shedding their paint, like birds molting feathers.  
  
Were she anywhere else, she would’ve laughed at the thought- _sounds like something you’d say, Matty_.  
  
As it is, she remains silent, eyes positioned forward, trying to avoid the inevitable.  
  
His breathing is even besides her, as if he’s perfectly and utterly calm- which, he probably is, considering he going to church and she’s going to…  
  
Fuck, no _wonder_ they call it Hell’s Kitchen- it’s where the demons stir the pot.  
  
“Jessica,” he says, softly, and she rolls her eyes because _dammit_ , his voice is all mushy and soft and _we talked about this, Murdock_.  
  
He doesn’t let up- her head finally turns and she can see he’s holding something, a loop of wooden beads and at the end-  
  
Her breath hitches- he smiles.  
  
It’s a rosary. A fucking rosary, the one his dad got him on his seventh birthday, two years before the accident when he was still learning how to read, and-  
  
He’s still holding it out.  
  
Her brain reels- _He knows better than anyone you can’t be trusted with fragile things._  
  
Her heart pounds- _But he’s still offering it up._  
  
She takes the necklace, and the look on his face is almost worth the turmoil.  
  
Slowly, he leans over in his seat and plants a gentle kiss on her lips- she hesitates briefly, before kissing back, enjoying the feeling his stubble scraping her chin.  
  
He took off his glasses at some point, and his eyes are warm as they look towards her- _he’s too good, he’s too kind and soft and-_  
  
_And he chose to be with me._  
  
She straightens in her seat, shoving the door open and slamming it shut again, watching from the corner of her eye as he unfolds his cane and follows her. He takes her hand and squeezes it, before tapping his way down to street, where people are gathered outside the church.

 _Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane._  
  
She faces the building, with it’s peeling shutters and faded walls. His rosary hangs heavy on her neck, and it’s warm where it touches her skin.  
  
_You’ve got this, Jones._  
  
She steps forward.


	2. Murdock v Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your autism experience may vary.

She can hear the way his cane quivers in his hand- it’s unsteady on the ground, the usually rhythmic _tap-tap-tap_ stuttering like a failing heart. Once, it had been unnerving- the steady click like the hum of a rattlesnake’s tail; nowadays, it’s more reassuring, like he’s using it to make up for his lack of natural footsteps.  
  
Fucking ninjas, man.  
  
But today, she can hear the way it falters, stops- can hear it with his slow breathing and the way he occasionally trips over a crack in the sidewalk, face impassive the entire time.  
  
He’d been doing so well, too- using words instead of fists, coming to her with his bruises and cuts; he fidgeted in public, more often than not, stroking his tie up and down and smiling gently when she let him touch her hair.

But even still, no matter how much she listened and talked and tried to understand, no matter how many informational videos she'd watched on youtube, he’d never had anyone who really knew- _no, Matt, Castle doesn’t count_ \- and she could tell it was taking a toll on him.

Reluctantly, he’d agreed to a meetup- it was a monthly thing, an autism acceptance group, barely within the borders of the Kitchen, but it was better than leaving altogether. Part of her knew he wasn’t thrilled about it- hell, anyone could tell, she could practically _smell_ his anxiety- but he’d nodded all the same, twitching his cane in the way he does when he knows he must endure.  
  
But shit, man, now he’s here and he’s shutting down, pressing himself tightly into her side, and dammit, she should’ve _known_ this would happen, _fuck_ -  
  
They’ve reached the building, now- an old community center made of concrete and covered in graffiti, but she doesn't have time to take that in right now, because as soon as she sits Matt on a bench, he curls himself into a ball and squeezes his head with bruising force. He's mumbling under his breath, a mantra like her own, and she lets him, watching him rock back and forth as she wraps her arms around his torso, pinning his hands to his sides.  
  
He’s not crying- not yet, anyway, and she dreads the moment that it happens- but the way he sucks air into his lungs would make her think he was drowning, and a small, soft part of her wants to collect him in her arms and fly away and never put him down.  
  
But in this moment? In the here and now? There’s not much more she can do but hold him and wait for him to ride it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the stressor was the fact that Matt really hates most things involving groups, due to the inherent claustrophobia that comes with such things; he also hates talking in groups, so things like this can set him off.
> 
> It does end up helping him to accept himself a little more, and he starts to show up more irregularly; in contrast, Jess never went back to group therapy after the first experience- Matt simply gathered her afterward and they went home.
> 
> Also, it will forever be in my headcanon that Frank has autism- maybe I'll write about it, maybe I won't.


End file.
